


oh, if you have love to get done

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Gay love is healing, M/M, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 18:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20214391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: A little bit of introspection on Crowley being up in heaven again, as well as seeing his angel again.





	oh, if you have love to get done

**Author's Note:**

> Michael Sheen's acting in that scene killed me, truly. 
> 
> Title from Hozier's No Plan, which is such a good Crowley/Aziraphale song my fellows

Crowley had, intellectually, known that swapping places with Aziraphale would likely lead to him being taken to heaven (if Agnes continued to be correct), but he hadn’t quite been… ready to actually be in heaven once more.

It’s been well over six millennia since he had set foot in these hallowed, heavenly halls. It’s the exact same, which, of course it is. Some things aren’t surprising in the least.

There’s a roaring in his ears that makes it hard to concentrate, and it’s silly, considering he doesn’t  _ need _ to breathe, but his chest feels like there’s a weight on it and he  _ can’t  _ breathe and  _ that _ is unnerving. 

He answers on vague autopilot when Gabriel says something, worried that if he thinks too much or opens his mouth too wide he’s going to start screaming. If he starts screaming, he won’t be able to stop. He’ll just stand here screaming and screaming until his voice breaks and they figure out the truth and douse him with holy water.

But he focuses his thoughts on Aziraphale. He thinks about his angel, down in Hell, relying on him to keep his shit together long enough to get through this farce. 

Until.

“So, with one act of treason, you averted the war,” Gabriel says, as if that’s a bad thing. 

That snaps through the fuzz in Crowley’s brain. He can defend Aziraphale. He has to. It’s Aziraphale.

“Well, I think the greater good-” he begins.

“Don't talk to me about the greater good, sunshine. I'm the Archangel  _ fucking  _ Gabriel. The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all,” Grabirel cuts him off.

It feels a bit like being slapped in more than one way. Poor Aziraphale was stuck with Gabriel for all of these years; suddenly falling seems like the greater grace. 

Part of him had hoped that Gabriel would be reasonable. Not that Gabriel had ever been reasonable, from what Crowley can recall- in fact, Gabriel had been particularly eager to see them fall, back in the day.

But he knows what it is to be cast out of heaven, and he wouldn’t wish that on Aziraphale, especially since Aziraphale isn’t as ready to walk away as Crowley had been. Crowley had been given the illusion of choice (which is the kind of choice that heaven gives most)- shut up or fall. 

Either way, it was a fall, but at least he had the opportunity to keep himself, even if everything else was ripped away from him. 

But Aziraphale gets nothing.

And, judging from the burst of hellfire, he was going to be wiped from existence. Less than nothing. 

Crowley hesitates before stepping into the fire.

“I don't suppose I can persuade you to reconsider? We're meant to be the good guys, for Heaven's sake,” Crowley says. One last chance for heaven to make it right.

“Well, for Heaven's sake, we are meant to make examples out of traitors,” Gabriel says with a roll of his eyes. “So into the flame.”

He had hoped that heaven would surprise him with their mercy. But no, of course not. 

“Well, lovely knowing you all,” Crowley says, pausing just outside the flame. Aziraphale would be unfailingly polite, but in a way that would make Crowley a bit weak in the knees. “May we meet on a better occasion.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already.”

So very rude.

Crowley hesitates just outside the flame for a moment. He’s not scared because he knows that he’ll be fine. Hellfire is nothing to a demon. 

He pauses because if things had been different, it would be Aziraphale standing here and he would be facing down his certain demise at heaven’s hands. Heaven has taken so much from Aziraphale and now they’re willing to toss him aside like so much garbage.

Aziraphale would cease to exist, and that’s a thought that makes his stomach knot and heart feel cold. A world without Aziraphale is only worth saving because it’s what he would want.

He hates the whole heavenly host, he realizes. It’s a bit startling. Most people think demons are just full of hate, but Crowley has never found the time for it until now; his hatred burns bright and pure and sears through him in a cleansing bolt. 

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve the “justice” of heaven.

(Perhaps he didn’t, either)

Crowley steps into the hellfire and it washes over him like a soothing balm. He laughs at their shock and surprise, finally letting out a vengeful yell as he spurts a bit of hellfire at them. Seeing the scared looks on their faces is a high delight.

This time when he leaves heaven, he does so under his own power. There’s no hard shove or unceasing agony. Just the continuance of his existence, and maybe just the slightest bit of contentment.

* * *

Of course, he can’t be content until he sees his own face. He doesn’t know how Aziraphale fared in hell. 

He’s never been so glad to see his own face as when he sees Aziraphale sitting on that bench. They can swap back without touching, of course; they could do it without seeing each other; Crowley needs to touch him to know that this is real.

Aziraphale is warm to the touch and seeing his face appear is like coming home. They hold hands for a while on the bench, and he’s still so warm that it makes Crowley feel warm.

(There’s no need to question if it worked or not. If it didn’t, they would both be dead.)

Crowley feels like he can’t breathe again. He wants this moment to last forever because he’s not quite sure what will come next. They’ve fallen into a comfortable little routine together, the two of them, but now everything is different, and he doesn’t know what that means for them. (Will there finally be a them? Is that possible, in this brave new world?)

“Do you want to go to dinner?” Aziraphale asks. “Can I tempt you?”

Crowley reaches his hand up to carefully brush over Aziraphale’s cheek. It makes his chest freeze as his breath catches at the intimate contact, and Aziraphale’s eyes have gone wide.

“You can tempt me,” Crowley says softly.

Aziraphale swallows hard as he presses his cheek against Crowley’s hand. Crowley wants nothing more to close the distance between them, but he can’t. Six thousand years of waiting and of wanting, and now that they’re both free, he can’t.

What if Aziraphale denied their friendship because he really doesn’t like him? What if Aziraphale wants to be his friend and nothing more? He is, after all, a demon and an evil being, and Aziraphale is a being of good. Not because he’s an angel, but because he’s  _ Aziraphale _ . What if this is too much, too fast? Aziraphale has just left heaven under bad circumstances; he might not be ready for whatever this is. What if-

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice is soft and steady and firm, like he’s being extra careful about how he forms his words, and he’s looking at him like he’s just seeing him for the first time, “can I kiss you?”

It lingers there between them for a long moment as Crowley struggles to make sure that he heard what he thinks he did. He hasn’t even let himself imagine this moment. 

“ _ Please _ .”

Aziraphale leans forward and presses his lips against Crowley’s. There’s a brief moment of panic because they can’t- what if heaven or hell or Lucifer or god find out? what will they do to Aziraphale?- but then Crowley reminds himself that they’re finally safe. 

Crowley relaxes into the kiss, opening up under Aziraphale’s gentle care. He never wants this moment to end. It feels good, it feels right, as if they’ve been doing this all along. 

When they pull apart, Crowley presses his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. He just can’t bear to look at him in this moment, but he needs to be close. 

“I’m here,” Aziraphale says softly, wrapping him up in his arms. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Crowley nods against Aziraphale’s neck. He doesn’t want anyone to pay attention to them, so they don’t, and he can cling to Aziraphale in peace. 

The tension and the worry of the last few days (years! centuries! longer than that!) has melted out of Crowley now. They’re going to be okay. 

He pulls back to look at Aziraphale, who is bright and reassuring and smiling. Crowley runs his thumb along Aziraphale’s cheekbone. 

Crowley realizes that there are tears sliding down his cheeks, but his smile matches Aziraphale’s. He’s never felt truly safe before this moment- hell off of his back, heaven off of Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale holding him close- and he feels like he can finally breathe. It is sweet.

“I think we have a lot to talk about, my dear,” Aziraphale says.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right,” Crowley says. “How about we go back to my place? I can give you a lift.”

The Bentley is now parked at the edge of the square, revved up and ready to go. 

“That’s a splendid idea,” Aziraphale says.

Their words are still careful, as if they’re re-learning the basics. Maybe they are. 

But as Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand again, he knows that whatever is next to come for them will be wonderful because they’re finally together. No complicated excuses for why they’ve run into each other yet again, no need to deny how much they mean to each other. 

Just the two of them at long last. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is mayhaps a bit scattered but I and Crowley both have a LOT of feelings.


End file.
